


Little Ghost, Little Ghost

by FreakyVintageWallpapers



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: ghost au, haunted house au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakyVintageWallpapers/pseuds/FreakyVintageWallpapers
Summary: They're dead, completely gone and forgotten. Their only remains are scattered and impossible to find, and they had made their peace with being stuck forever in their eternal summer.But him?He's the definition of life, the beauty of a heart beat and the rush of wind leaving lungs. So beautiful, so why did they want to drag him down with them?





	1. Chapter 1

The place was big, not as big as their old home, but big none the less. It was a beautiful red and white Victorian styled home that had been fully restored by the previous owners. It was spacious, three stories including the attic! The never ending backyard had a large barn in the back that would make an excellent fort once the rats and spiders were swept away. It even had a lake for swimming and fishing, what could be better than that?

Yet, Max hated it. As they pulled into the driveway, the ten year old hoped a sudden meteor would collide with the building, send the damn thing up into flames.

While his parents would stare at the debris, he would already be climbing into the car so they could return to their real home. The home where his friends were waiting on his return.

No such meteor came to his rescue though, and they stepped from their car without incident. Max held onto the strap on his backpack with a tight grip, just approaching the house made him angry.

His mother turned her nose up once she saw how isolated their new home truly was. Acres of trees surrounded the house, and their closest neighbors were an elderly couple that owned a farm miles away. The only other residents within close distance were children that were on the other sides of the lake for summer camp, and they would offer no conversation his mother would like to be apart of.

She stared at the house, surrounded by the towering oaks and over grown plants.

"Gives you a horror movie vibe doesn't it?" She looked to her son who just snorted in response. Finding no comfort in his response, she clutched her white leather handbag to her chest.

His father had picked out the place, saying it was like a vacation for the entire summer, but his son was no fool. Max had raised himself to see through the lies of adults, and He knew for a fact they were there to lay low until the commotion back home passed.

"Don't complain. It's a good house for what we payed and we'll have a good time for the summer. This is the last time I'm going to hear a complaint about it." His father attempted to comfort, but his voice was too stern.

As if he was actually scolding his wife and child for being upset with being put in the middle of nowhere because of what he did. Besides, his father was never the comforting type, nor the talking one for that matter. Max thought he should just keep your mouth shut, he didn't have the right to talk to them anyways.

So he told him exactly that.

"Excuse me?" His father looked taken back at such verbal rebellion from his son.

"You heard me. You're just mad because you have to spend the summer with the child bride you alienated and some stranger kid that you share DNA with." And with that he walked up the cobble stone steps that led to the entrance of their new home and used his foot to kick open the front door.

The faint echoes of his father's muttering reached his ears as he stepped into the house.

"Why when we were kid, you'd go pick your own switch for disobedience! You're lucky I'm so kind, boy." His father swore, more so under his breath than to anybody.

"Yeah, yeah. You've clearly haven't damaged your kid enough by neglecting me, why don't you add physical abuse to the cesspool that's my childhood." Max wasn't sure what a cesspool was but it sounded gross enough to be associated with the level of torment his parents inflicted on him.

His father growled and began taking off his shoes and coat. He said something more about how Max was tracking in dirt, but the boy ignored him.

He took in the house, as soon as he got passed the entrance hall he was greeted with a fully furnished living room. The furniture was more modern but the various stains it sported showed that it had been used. They kind of looked like blood with a mixture of grape kook aid, but whatever it was Max was it sitting on that couch.

There was a large wooden staircase that lead up to the second floor. The second floor was open, no wall separated it from the rest of the house. If Max ever wanted to spy on those below in the living room, he'd have a perfect view. The railing of the stairs ran all the way up and to the wall. Bordering the second level off, so if he wanted to walk off the second floor to his doom, the guard rail would stop him.

Dammit. This house was no fun.

From his position at the entrance, Max could see onto the second level, and could make out doors and paintings that lead down the hallway. But it was too dark to see all the way back.

The whole house seemed, very open. When he stood looking at the home, it seemed as though the interior was looking right back at him with the same curiosity.

His father pushed passed him and stomped up the stairs. Max saw him disappear into the darkness of the hallway and he could hear the slam of a door.

"He probably went to the study. Maxwell can't you get along with him?" His  
Mother berated and clicked her tongue. She was eyeing the second floor wearily.

"Wouldn't it be creepy if you were sitting on the couch and you just look up and someone was standing there looking down?"

"He's the one whose acting as if we should be worshipping the ground he walks on. He's never around for more than a few hours and now he expects us to be spending every moment together? You're not my parents, your strangers! We don't know a thing about each other! We are just a bunch of strangers living in a creepy ass house where serial killers can look down on you while you watch porn on the TV."

His mother narrowed her eyes at him.

"You better not be watching porn, young man."

Max sighed and threw his backpack on the  
ground.

"I'm glad that's what you took from that."

He eyed the couch and walked on. He examined the glass coffee table and old Tv that sat in front of the couch. Maybe he could watch cartoons while the movers brought in the boxes.

"How about I get started on lunch huh? I'll see what we've got in the car, but I gotta see this kitchen."

"Can you even cook without a servant helping you?" Max inquired fiddling with the buttons on the TV.

"They aren't servants Max, their our maids who we can totally live without!" His mother corrected, but she knew he was right. She hadn't lifted a finger to cook and clean in ten years, she wouldn't be able to handle the work she used to do for a living.

She huffed and walked on through the front room that was connected to the kitchen, that had large bay windows covered by curtains.

"It could be fun here. Go pick out your room! There's a few bedrooms you can choose from." She tried as she brushed passed him and headed into the kitchen, throwing curtain off every window she went passed.

He really didn't want to pick out a bedroom. He really didn't want to sit on the disgusting couch. He really didn't want to be here.

As he watched her leave and disappear into the kitchen he felt an odd tingling on the back of his neck. He could feel something, as if someone were standing right in front of him.

 _'Look up!'_ His instinct told him, and immediately he checked on the top floor where he swore he saw something retreat into the darkness of the hallway.

 


	2. Lunch Time Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short lunch break turns into another mess of hidden secrets

Lunch was … Interesting to say the least. Max couldn’t remember a single meal that they had all sat down and shared. Not one.

Usually their cook would send any unfortunate maid who was passing by to bring Max’s meal to his room where he would proceed to remind them of how worthless their life was before taking the tray of food and slamming the door shut.

His mother was always out of the house shopping so she always grabbed lunch on her own, and his father was always away on business, he never had time to actually sit down with them at all. The longest he was home was just the month before when it had all came out, and he tried to let the heat die there. It was only for a week though.

So when they all sat down at the dirty round table, with a gentle breeze from the open windows that carried out the smell of burnt bread softening the creeping anxieties, it was nothing short of an absolute nightmare. Max looked down at the charred grilled cheese with absolute disgust, his father mirrored him. Or rather, he mirrored his father.

“I’m not fucking eating this.” Max said with a matter of fact tone. He shook his head, pushing the plate to the middle of the table. His mother gasped from her spot at the oven, which was imbedded into a tiny island in the middle of the kitchen. She had pushed the table her self so she could face them while she cooked. Max thought it was the weirdest thing, and his mother looked to her husband for help.

His father pressed down on the bread and it was as unforgiving as a brick. He grimaced.

“Laila, dear, I don’t think this is edible. It too hard for my teeth, I think.” He was trying to be nice, but Max knew that he also wasn’t used to burnt food and had no intentions of eating her cooking. His mother sighed deeply and looked down at her burnt sandwhich. She glanced at her son who was in turn looking at her with a sense of pity, the without warning she grabbed the burnt lump from the hot pan in front of her and tossed it out the open window. Both boys stared at her in shock and even she had seemed confused by her actions.

She looked at her hands that had seemingly moved themselves, and then back to her son who was stifling giggles behind his hand. Max had never seen her get that frustrated to the point she threw a cheese sandwich, he just couldn’t help it.

She cracked a smile and shrugged.

Max laughed much to their surprise, a little maliciously, and she walked around the island to gently smack his shoulder. She sighed as she stared at the lunch she made for her family, “I think you might be right about needing help."

“We’re gonna be eating Lunchables for days.” Max snorted, and gave her a smug look which she returned. It was all in good nature though, even they sometimes had moments when they put away the weapons and had a laugh.

His father looked between the two, as if they had both sprouted extra limbs. He watched them go back and forth, and he felt something rattle in his chest.

“Hundreds!” Max shouted.

“Thousands even!” She swept her arms wide as if she was already basking in the glory of the artificial lunches.

“Pizza lunchables for every meal! I demand that’s all the cook makes!” Max snorted again at his own joke, and his mother laughed. Max liked this about them. He and his mother weren’t particularly happy with each other but they were the only ones in this world they could trust.

Not even his father could be trusted in this cruel world of power they found themselves in.

Max hated her, he did. She married his father and forced herself and her son to be apart of a community that wouldn’t recognize them, she wanted them to become people that they’re not.

Everyone knew she was a girl from the slums, some little girl who hopped on a boat to America years ago. It was as if they had branded her forehead with a scarlet letter. They were loners in this world, but the were loners together. Even though they weren’t quite friends, they were good acquaintances at the best of times.

“Maybe a cook wouldn’t be such a bad idea…” She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to her husband. Something she had stopped calling him years ago, but it was still his title.

“I’ll look into it.” His voice was gruff and he was looking at his son with something intense in his eyes. Max nodded in agreement, and once more the mother and son gave each other a smirk. He abruptly pushed himself from the table, and turned to his wife, his eyes narrowed.

“Make yourself presentable. We’ll bring something back for lunch from town.”

“But what about the movers?” His mother asked, eyebrows creasing in worry.

“The boxes are labeled.” He said with a sense of finality and she obediently looked to the ground and nodded.

Max didn’t say a word, he wasn’t being addressed and he could tell the light hearted mood had shifted back to what it once was, back to a bunch of angry assholes who had a mutual hatred for each other. His father produced the car keys from his pocket before snapping his attention to his son.

Max casted his eyes down to his swinging feet, he knew his father was in no mood for his attitude so a cocky retort could land him in a world of trouble.

“You are to wait here, do not wander outside, do not cause any damage to anything in this home, and when the movers arrive you will be on your best behavior. Is this understood?” Max looked away, shoving his arms in the pocket of his hoodie. His father had a bite to his tone, as if he was speaking to his servants back home.

“Yeah, just go, I won’t make a scene.” Max muttered. He hated the business tone his father never seemed to lose, he hated that he couldn’t pull his hood up to shield him from his father. His father placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side, he clearly wasn’t done teaching whatever lesson he was trying to get across.

“Maxwell. Is that how you speak to your father? You know I don’t have to let you keep all you electronics this summer.” Max groaned inwardly, he knew this game, he knew what the bastard in front of him wanted.

He’d be here all day if he didn’t give in, but his face was beginning to warm with embarrassment. The fact that his mother was watching made it even worse, she was usually hurried herself out of the room at the first sign of an argument between her husband and son. He pouted, and kept his eyes on his table. His father gave an impatient cough.

“Yes, Baba, I won’t cause any trouble. I’ll be good for you and Mammy.” His tone had a sense of defeat to it.

Max knew how to pick his battles, he knew from the start he couldn’t win this one. His father sported a wicked grin, and Max briefly though of them as shark teeth.

Like a predator ready to attack for the sake of the hunt. It was the grin of someone who had done terrible things for only his benefit, the grin of a stone cold murderer.

The grin of a businessman.

That’s what Max was to him. A short term investment that hopefully would pay off.

His father was a businessman through and through.

“Good.” He turned to his wife, who had watched the exchange with wide doe eyes.

“I said make yourself presentable! I’ll be in the car.” Once she was sure he was gone she looked to her son, who was staring at his burnt lunch with a vengeance.

“I- um… Does he always talk to you like that?”

Max gave her a grin that was so eerily familiar, “Just the same way he talks to you.”

She felt like she was gasping for air.

He pushed himself away from the table and stomped his way over to the back door that was tucked in the corner of the kitchen. When he opened it, a breezes that was ghosting through the backyard was pulled in and Max wandered out in pure defiance.

She wanted to call out to him, to apologize for being the bystander once again to his neglect, but she was silent.

She didn’t know that’s how her husband treated their baby, how many times had he talked to Max like that in front of her? How long had she been ignoring the fact that she let _her_ husband talked to _her_ baby like that. She pushed the thoughts back as the sound of the loud car horn rung throughout the house.

She rushed to get ready, a small smile forming at the possibility of having an enjoyable time out with her husband.

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of an exciting new story! If you want more, or want to see your own idea in writing, tell me on tumblr @campcambellistheplaceformeandyou!


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